

HE 



PLANTING 

OF THE 

CROSS 




HORACE M 
PUBOSe 



P S 

2)507 




S^Q^j^JT 



Class _ 

Book 'M.±^P 5" 

Coffyiiglit N!'._^^_ZZ^3 



COPYRFGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE 



Planting of the Cross 



BY 



.^ 



Horace M. Du Bose 




San Francisco 

THE WHITAKER & RAY COMPANY 

(incorporated) 

1903 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Receivet? 

JUi 30 1903 

Copyright Entry 

/-TA,C-LV7-7_/ iJ ^ 

6USS^ ^ XXcNo. 

lo ^ 8" l^ ^ 

COPY B. 



f 






Copyright, igoj 

BY 

Horace M. Du Bose 



«. «, * " ft • • • 

** ^ « •> • « 



„• „ * • * 



INDEX. 

Page. 
Introductory 5 

I. Don Ai^ejandro 7 

II. Padre Serra 10 

III. Ely Carmei<o 23 

IV. The BuiIvDERS 34 

V. The House Doi^ores . . . .46 

VI. Dona Inez 60 



INTKODUCTORY. 

At the close of the sixth decade of the eighteenth 
century the Spanish Government began the col- 
onization of the territory now embraced within 
the limits of the State of California. The move- 
ment, as was usual in Spanish settlements in the 
New World, consisted of a dual occupation ; a com- 
munity of monks and neophytes was established 
under the protection of a military garrison and 
the authority of an alcalde or governor. The first 
settlement was begun at San Diego (called Cosoy 
by the natives) , July i6, 1769. A rude church was 
built and the foundations of Spanish rule were 
laid. Father Junipero Serra, a native of the island 
of Majorca, a Franciscan of apostolic zeal and con- 
siderable learning, and long in charge of the Mis- 
sions in Lower California, with his Presidential 
seat at ancient Loreto, was made the first Presi- 
dent of the new Mission ; while Caspar de Portold, 
a knight of the cross in New Spain, became Gov- 
ernor. After the first community had suffered 
great hardships, the outposts of the Mission were 
extended to Monterey, and then to San Francisco. 
Slowly but steadily the intermediate ground was 
occupied. The Missions flourished and accumu- 
lated vast wealth in cattle, stores and cultivated 
fields, orchards and vineyards. During half a 

(5> 



INTRODUCTORY. 



century thirty thousand Indians were Christian- 
ized, taught the arts of civilized life and brought 
to dwell in orderly communities and in houses of 
wood and sun-dried brick. Secularization, by 
which the Mission settlements were changed into 
pueblos or towns and cities governed by civil mag- 
istrates, struck the first blow at the prosperity of 
this primitive system. The effects of war and the 
changes of time completed its destruction. But a 
condition of pastoral simplicity, mixed with un- 
questioning reverence for the priestly patriarchate 
set over them, continued amongst the Christian- 
ized natives and mixed peoples of the land down 
to the time of the advent of the Saxon gold hunt- 
ers and the transfer of the territory to the flag of 
the United States. In the following lines the nar- 
rative of these events is put into the mouth of one 
of the native Dons or Hidalgos, whose years con- 
stitute a sort of link between the old and the new. 



I. DON ALEJANDRO. 

WHEN laggard summer yawned in August 
tide 
And blew a stifling mist about the world, 
Enticed by day-dreams of a season passed 
Full length on ferny banks beneath the shade 
Of ash or hemlock boughs, or lulled to sleep 
By swift-voiced streams in canyon solitudes, 
I shook the city's dust from off my feet 
And pitched a useless tent below the peaks 
That rise beyond Pajaro's windy copse. 



No human footprints marred that dim retreat, 

Save such as climbed a zigzag path to reach 

The stile and doorway of a lone jacal — 

A hawk-nest hut that, flung athwart the rocks, 

Stood like a landmark fixed by law's decree 

Dividing 'twixt the village sprawled below 

And vaster spaces of the hill. I chanced 

Upon it first an eve at set of sun, 

A time the lone dispenser of its cheer, 

A grey-haired Don, sat gazing down the west 

As though the twilight swarmed with what he 

knew, 
The shades and ghosts of all his hundred years. 

17) 



THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



A mild " Buenos" and a quizzing rote 

Drew out his withered soul, a link between 

The pastoral times of threescore years agone 

And these our own of feverish lust for gold. 

Don Alejandro, once undoubted lord 

Of half these fertile plains, and of the hills 

A hundred, counted east and west, had seen 

His flocks, some tens of thousands — sheep and 

kine — 
Wind ranch ward at the rounding up. What now ? 
A stranger in the land he taught to laugh 
With furrowed fields and made to team with 

wealth ; 
And not so much of all his old demesne 
lycft to his palsied age as nature asks 
To make its bed in death. Yet no complaint 
He breathed, but garruled in a cheerful way, 
Stopping to kiss a little crucifix. 

While all the west was reddening with the glow 

Of burning cities, reared and pyloned far 

In insubstantial mist, and from the lips 

Of Alejandro rose a wreath of fragrant smoke 

Amongst the needles of the terebinth, 

I sat before the lowly door and wove 

A strategy about the hoary man 

And crossed his palms, until his memory strayed 

Beyond the years of gold and strife, ere came 

The Saxon trains across the Snowy Range ; 

When Ivatin blood ruled all the land, and chimes 



DON AIvEJANDRO. 



Of Latin bells across the pastoral plains 

In far Te Deums rolled. Each day renewed 

With stately speech the growing tale of how 

The black-stoled padres taught the heathen folk, 

And filled the land with tokens of the faith ; 

Or passing holy things, how in the fields 

The vaquero upheld his feudal claims ; 

How swarthy gallants met, with steel to steel, 

And fell transfixed, or lived with boastful scars 

To claim applause from dark-eyed maids and 

dames ; 
How festal days were graced with sports and baits 
Of horned bulls in those untroubled years 
When grim alcaldes awed the infant State ; 
And so he garruled on, the senile Don. 
Bach day I drank the cup tradition filled 
And saw the gleaming landscape spread below 
Rebloom through Sabbath calm of Latin days. 
But only tumbled heaps are left me now 
Of that mirage blown by the winds of time, 
And what is built through this frail verse of mine 
Is random substance from that worthy's tale. 



10 THE PIvANTING OF THE CROSS. 



II. PADRB SBRRA. 

* " Calada Fornax ! " sighed the padres where 
The desert heaved its fiery zones along 
The borders of the Golden Land, when, led 
As were the Elders long ago, they came 
From fair Loreto on the Southern seas 
To build the shrines of God and worship Him 
In solemn Mass upon the heathen shore. 
"Jesus Salvator! " grant them long repose, 
Those ancient holy men, who wrought their tasks 
They knew not how, save that they heard a voice 
And answered ; saw a sign and doubted not, 
Till what was mockery of their toils became 
At last, in faith's serene reward, the speech 
And symbol of delight. 

The desert passed, 
Remembered as a fever left the blood ; 
And sweet as vision breaking after death 
On holy eyes, the goodly land stretched on 
In serrate lines of azure hills and deep, 
Wide vales through which the summer, passing* 

poured 
From cloudland urns the rivers toward the sea. 

*" Calada fornax " — fiery furnace, from which some de- 
rive the name California. 



PADRK SERRA. 11 



The Padre Serra, Angel of the Church 
And first of all those reverend men whose names 
Glow through the darkness of primeval times, 
Walked in the garden by the Mission wall 
In fair lyoreto when the tropic day 
Glanced in a fiery mist from roofs of tile 
And domes grey with a hundred years of age, 
And, while a passion shook his frame as winds 
In wild Gorgonio shake the aspen boughs, 
Prayed in the utterance of a long desire. 
"Kxsurgat Deus ! " breathed the reverend lips : 
" I/et God arise; in darkness long has lain 
The pleasant land, and all the heathen die 
For lack of light and Holy Church ; or ere 
"We plant the cross on those blue slopes and claim 
The cheerful vales for God and our mild King, 
The Arian hordes will mar. A sign, O God ! 
Thy servants wait." Hereat an earthquake shook 
The hoary shrine and rent the massive tower. 
From which a snow-white nesting dove escaped 
Flew northward o'er the level plain and passed 
Into the heathen land; and all along 
The quivering air the padre heard the chimes 
Of distant bells, as though o'er miles of sea 
They came, ringing the " Veni Creator." 

**IvausDeus!" cried the thankful priest; "the time 
Is ripe to call the heathen child ; and by 
This sign God sends us forth." And still 
The temple shook ; and half the silent saints 



12 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 



In silvern vestments from their niches fell 
And lay before the Host; the censers gave 
The smell of incense burnt; and so the sign 
About an hour's space prevailed, and passed. 



God's plans, though slowly wrought to human 

sight. 
Complete themselves and lose not through the 

years 
One jot of all the ends they hold. Yet while 
He waits, one prayer avails to hasten what 
He wills and brings an empire to its birth. 
Don Carlos coming to the throne of Spain 
Destroyed the bloody court of Torquemade, 
Expelled the Jesuit wolves, decreed a peace 
And breathed his purpose through the shrinking 

realm. 
Ships multiplied upon the seas, wealth grew 
And filled Iberian coffers and the King's, 
Who, fain to claim his heritage beyond the sea, 
Indited letters, sealed and sent them hence 
By hands of noble men, Galvaez chief; 
And thus it came to pass that day of signs, 
At eve, about the time of Angelus, 
That Don Rivera to the Mission rode 
With letters from the King, and with him came 
Two scores of Catalans and twenty knights 
Sworn to the Holy Cross and to the King. 



padre; serra. 13 



Thus went the royal mandate, read that eve 
Before the altar when a solemn pomp 
Was in the holy house : "Don Carlos, King, 
To Portold, the Governor, Greetings — lo ! 
The time is full; the Golden Land is ours, 
Our legacy from those whose daring clove 
The seas and found this goodly ancient pearl, 
Meet now to glisten in the crown of Christ. 
Arise and claim it for the King, and plant 
The cross beside the shore. God prosper all ! " 
Thus did the King's most royal mandate read. 
And brought the Padre Serra's vision true. 

At Autumn went the knights and friars by land, 

The Catalans by ship with stores to build 

The shrine of God at Cosoy on the heathen shore. 

But Serra, being lame, and burdened sore 

With care about the diocese and who 

Should fill his room (for on him weighed the 

Church 
And many houses of his brotherhood. 
Himself their sun and guiding star), went not 
Upon the journey with the first, but blessed 
And sent them forth, himself to follow soon; 
And after such a time he went, and with him 
Went a neophyte and cuirassier 
To bear his holy things and guard the way. 

From San Javier came Father Palou forth 

To greet his brother priest, and kissed his hands 



14 THE PI.ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



With many tears of love and joy ; and him 
Did Padre Serra name to fill his room ; 
And thus content passed on, albeit pained 
At every step with ulcered feet ; but helped 
By native skill in use of unctuous herbs, 
And borne from holy house to holy house, 
He passed into the desert, fainting oft ; 
And coming on the Governor's halting train, 
Sank swooning into Padre Crespi's arms, 
These two being knit in soul to toil as one. 

At Cosoy in the heathen land they prayed 

And raised the cross beside the curving shore. 

While from the branches of a mighty oak 

The bells rang out the " Veni Creator," 

As Padre Serra heard them on the air 

In fair Loreto by the Mission wall ; 

And far across the dimpling sea, and up 

The land along the sunny slopes it ran, 

God's message to the heathen folk to hear and live. 

And here they set an altar up, and cast 

A wall about the place, and dwelt secure 

While twice the fields were sowed and reaped ; 

and herds 
Were bleating in the fragrant pounds run rank 
With billowing grass and galingales. Sometimes 
The heathen glared in wolfish wrath, sometimes 
Were docile as the doves and hares about the wilds; 
But once they rose with treacherous aid and slew 
The Father Luis ; and in later times 



PADRE SB;RRA. 15 



They burned the holy house with which were 

charged 
The Fathers Fuster and Jaume ; of whom 
They wounded one, the other slew, and left 
The sweet place desolate; but all because 
The soldiers wronged them sore, deflowered their 

maids 
And stole away their wives ; but now no shame 
Was done, and many learned the creed and came 
And dwelt as neophytes within the walls. 



At Cosoy fain the Catalans had stayed 
And ended there their labors for the King, 
So pleasant was the land ; and rest and ease 
And dalliance of the swarthy heathen maids 
Had dulled the fiery ardor of their faith. 
So, like a brood of sluggish bats, they gorged 
And slept until the Governor doubted much 
If he should push the conquest of the King ; 
Howbeit, half a year before he led 
His host a hundred leagues or more to north 
Seeking Vizcaino's Bay, concerning which 
The King had written, saying, "Build beside 
Its shores the house of God, and claim the land." 



And thence they went, but knew it not, though 

such 
As might have stood for all the King desired; 
But being faint, they did but set a cross 



16 THK Pr<ANTING OF THE) CROSS. 



Amongst the pines before the sea and wrote: 

"Who finds this holy thing, pray dig about 

Its foot; " and there they hid a screed, and back 

Returned upon their path, coming again 

To Cosoy, broken and faint ; and thus dissolved, 

As mists at morn, the padre's darling dream. 



"Lovers of ease, and all unlike our Lord, 
Are we; breakers of oaths and gluttons, base 
And craven-hearted," Serra moaned, there by 
The curving sea at Cosoy, where a year before 
Had rung the bells of Alcala: for moved 
By wrath, and kindling into speech, he charged 
The Governor, face to face, with false delay ; 
And so they strove, the Governor holding that 
The time was not, and he the time was ripe, 
Till ending, passed the padre to the sea 
And chafed in priestly anger, cried: ''Unholy 
ease ! ' ' 



Now came a time of want, the staff 
Of bread was broken and distress was keen. 
For all the year came neither ships nor word 
To cheer the people, faint therefor with doubts 
About the purpose of the King. And some, 
Desponding, sank in feverish dreams and died 
Fore viewing backward marches through the waste ; 
But some, still trusting, searched with hungry eyes 
The unrewarding seas, till also they 



padre; serra. 17 



Fell into shadowy trances, feverish dreams, 

And saw all things in spectral changes pass ; . 

Or if it chanced that, perched amongst the rocks. 

The watch mistook for sail the white-faced surge 

That ran before the gale, hope blithely rose, 

But sank again when promise failed of proof. 

The dire extreme— the desert's path — drew, like 

A judgment shadow, ever nigher until 

The Governor's mandate fixed the day, if still 

The sea refused a sail. Meanwhile a fast, 

A solemn abstinence of nine full days, 

Was ordered, and the people prayed each day, 

And lifted lamentations up to heaven, 

And so the ninth fulfilled itself at eve. 



Upon his friar's couch at midnight laid, 
And full of bitter thoughts and doubts at heart, 
The Padre Serra dreamed a dream, and lo ! 
One calm of face beside him stood, and said: 
" Hast thou forgotten, thou to whom the word 
Failed not when thou wast led through desert 

ways 
To build God's house and bless the heathen child? 
Hast thou forgotten, falling into doubts ? " 



And Serra answered meekly : "I have sinned ; 
But God is merciful who made of dust 
His prophets ; I am darkness in His light. 
And all unworthy he should visit me. *' 



18 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



Then he who had the face of peace replied, 
Down gazing on the padre as he spoke : 
•* There is no word save that of old, nor is 
There aught beside that, hearing, men should say 
God speaks of law. Read what is writ and give 
To him who asketh reason of the evil days. " 



And Serra answered: " God fulfills himself 

Abiding in the Word. I am but dust 

His nostrils should have scattered at a blast. " 



" But," said the Vision, smiling as it spoke, 
" Not only voices of the ancient days 
But voices of the now and times to be 
Appeal the ear of faith, nor doubts exempt ; 
Now therefore gird thyself to follow these ; 
For thou shalt prosper and shalt have success. 
And so shalt lead this doubting folk a way 
Thou knowest not, to build the house of God 
In places thou shalt know. The time is full, 
And thou shalt shortly see in pageant come 
The feet most beautiful of those great ones 
With tidings sent— archons of seats and thrones, 
And hear what time they come to serve thee 

sounds 
Exultant, cried as of a multitude 
Shouting far off in heaven ; but now, arise ; 
One waits thine instant coming at the sea." 



PADRE SERRA. 19 



And Serra, still in trance, beheld, and lo! 

A ship stood anchored by the curving shore. 

And from its mast a fiery oriflamme 

Streamed with the breeze and lit the shrouds 

And all the decks were bright, while up and down 

Within the dazzling circle of the light 

The plumed master strode and seaward glanced 

In moods of musing on a vast concern. 

At length he called the wondering padre hence, 

And showed him plenteous stores and holy things 

Within the hold, and cheered his reverent soul 

Kxpounding all the purpose of the King ; 

And when the morning broke through cloudless 

gates, 
And softly breathing rolled the mists far down 
The sloping seas and ruffled all the bay 
With mimic billows dancing toward the shore, 
They hoised the anchor up and sped away 
Upon the quest that filled the padre's life. 
The aspect of the world was changed, and changed 
Thereto the passion of his mind. The heights 
And depths dissolved in one consistency, 
And all seemed but the robing of a soul 
That shaped its pleasure to a voiceless law 
And proved obedience to the uttermost. 

Against the sky the sea was blue, and blue 
The sky against the sea. The ship seemed now 
To rise and float within the sky and now 
Upon the sea. Deep called to deep ; the hills 



20 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 



Burst into flame and o'er their summits rolled 

Exultant sounds as of a multitude 

Shouting far off in heaven. And signs were 

there — 
A sea of glass, a quivering interval 
Between the heavens and those eternal peaks 
Upheaving sapphire crests against the dawn ; 
And sweeping earthward down in pageant came 
The feet most beautiful of those great ones 
With tidings sent. 

Twilight at length befell, 
A softness less of ether than of God 
Wide brooding o'er the obeisant seas. The eve 
Grew into night with vault of stars above 
And floor of stars beneath, wherein the keel 
Seemed motionless, and every different star 
In vault and floor burned with a variant light. 



A slender surf broke on the darkened shore 
Beneath a fringing copse of cypress trees, 
Or poured through octaves of the rocky isles 
A drowsing music on the night. No breeze 
Was in the sail — the pilot-star with force 
Of some supernal lode drew on the prow 
Of that obedient craft heaven-named and sent, 
Which, ever moving, held by winding shores 
That grew at dawn to wonder more and more : 
Bold capes and sheer upclimbing walls and cliffs 



PADRB SERRA. 21 



Shaped to a vast and fierce outline of life ; 
Calm valleys marging on the level seas ; 
Broad mesas fragrant with abundant grass, 
And canyons dark with thorny chapparals 
And wilds of woolly hemlocks sloping down. 
A dreamy distance wooed the gliding keel 
And stretched inviting arms from silent bights 
Or channels of serenest tides, blue-waved 
And flowing down 'twixt groups of glittering isles 
And shorelands soaring upward toward the peaks 
Of mountains lilac-hued and veined with lines 
Of azure woods woven and laced above 
Descending streams. 



The dreamland day fell soft 
As only dreamland days can fall, but died 
In briefness of a thought, and, dying, spread 
A glory on the seas. A ragged land 
Rose sharp against the sky and made a port 
Of restful waters, where when night came on 
The bark was steered and moored beside the 

shore — 
An ancient beach o'ergloomed with spectral pines 
Held in a silence deep as that which reigned 
Of old before the birth of primal light. 

The Padre Serra landward looked, and lo ! 
Outlined against the wold, the Holy Cross, 
And shedding luster brighter than the stars ; 



22 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 



The ground a little space about was lit 
With that supernal glow, and dusky men 
Within the radiance lifted prayerful hands, 
And watched with wistful eyes the holy thing 
Until, updrawn, it marked the shield of God, 
The vast and star-embossed ellipse of heaven. 
Ring after ring of sapphire broke and fell 
From either arm, and floating downward rolled 
The land and sea in flame and made them seem 
One substance in the flame. And then was heard 
Far up in heaven a voice which said : " Behold, 
I make my house with these." And Serra saw 
In vision rise a city like the King's, 
Flame-built and bastioned upward awful heights. 
And all its gates surcharged with sudden hosts ; 
And while he watched, the vision paled and passed. 



EI. CARMEI^O. 23 



III. Ely CARMBLO. 

THK cock at Cosoy wailed at dawn and woke 
The friars and neophytes. A dragon mist 
Lay on the sea and breathed across the land 
A breath that chilled the blood and built about 
The Mission towers a Cyclopean gloom. 

At matins in the shrine shone Serra's face 
Lit with a light supernal, like a saint's ; 
His lips in prayer betrayed the touch of coals 
Red from the altar by the feet of God ; 
The secret of his heart made glow upon 
His hands and virtue in his robe, and he 
Himself was then as one who talked with God ; 
And while he served, behold the bells, and all 
Untouched, chimed out the " Veni Creator," 
And awe unearthly fell on every soul. 

A sudden token shook the holy place, 

And muffling through the mist the boom of guns, 

The King's salute calling from off the sea 

Closed in the diapason of the bells. 

With joy the people thronged the shores, and 

when 
The sun broke through the mist, a league at sea 
They saw the squadron rolling in the blue. 



24 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS, 



And Serra made a psalm of thanks that day 
And sang as Moses sang beside the sea, 
And all the people lifted silent thanks. 



The poppy spring had dappled hill and shore 
When Serra entered ship. The mountains watched 
From out their holies high in heaven ; the hosts 
Of waves that broke about the reefs, dark-crowned 
With coral palms, cried alleluias loud. 
And all the sea was praise. When fell the tide 
The fleet moved outward ; then a wind upsprung 
And swept it through the passes of the isles 
And toward the vagueness of the outer deep. 



Now when he saw the great ships sink away 
And read fulfillment of the King's desire, 
New-braced with hope, the Governor rose once 

more 
And marched a third time o'er the midland path. 
Across the purple range, and brought his host, 
When half their course was journeyed through, 

into 
A land sweet with the breath of fragrant shrubs 
And gloomed by trunks and crests of hugest 

pines ; 
A land beside whose rills the roebuck stalked 
And where the puma prowled amongst the brakes. 
From thence descending, stage by stage, 
They came on valleys blue, as heaven is blue, 



EI. CARMEI^O. 25 



With harebells and with hyacinths, and starred 
With poppies, for it chanced that spring was full. 



And so they journeyed up the land and came 
To where the cross was set amongst the pines, 
And there a wonder saw : from either arm 
And round the beam were hung festoons of shells 
And gaudy things, gifts of the Eslen folk, 
Who thought by fetich rites to please, and so 
Appease the stranger ; and they also showed 
By signs how awful portents came and went 
About the cross, shot down in flame from heaven ; 
And how withal it rose against the night 
Up to the stars and drew them into one, 
Until there burst the brightness of a hundred 
moons. 



And Crespi counseled there to stay and build, 
Well deeming God had chosen such a place; 
So there they tarried, watching day and night, 
Until an eve when splendors of the sun 
Made flame of sea and sky. And Crespi walked 
In converse with the Governor by the shore 
And came to where the green seas round a cape 
Crawled like a million typhous hissing death, 
When, as a man who calls again to mind 
The outlines of a long forgotten dream, 
Grave Crespi stood a moment fixed in thought, 
Then cried : " This is the Point of Pines, and that 



26 THE PI<ANTING OF THE CROSS. 

'Famoso Puerto, landlocked and wide,' 
Of which the priest of Bueno told, and where 
Two hundred years ago Vizcaino's galleys rode, 
Concerning which the King commandment gave 
To build beside the shore and claim the land." 
And while they gazed upon the sea, behold, 
About two leagues from off the shore the ships 
Of Serra, rolled in splendors of the eve ! 

Beside the beach they lighted signal fires 
And watched the ghost- white faces of the surf 
Until a sudden dawn consumed the stars 
And swept the shadows from the sea. 



In stole 
And alb arrayed, chanting Te Deums loud, 
Came Padre Serra to the shore, the while 
From iron lips the ships spoke thunders to the 

sea. 
Ten varas from the sandy beach they marched. 
Priests, Catalans and neophytes, and there 
An enramada spread, and blessed and set 
The cross beneath the selfsame mighty oak. 
Whereunder Priest Ascension chanted Mass 
Two hundred years before ; and while the voice 
Of cannon shook the groves, the heathen folk 
In wonder looking on, the Governor came 
And, drawing sword, claimed sea and shore, and all 
The people for the King ; and with such pomp 



EL CARMEI.O. 27 



The Golden Land forever passed from heathen 
hands. 

A path that winds about the pine-girt hills 

Brings one to moly Carmelo, back from 

The tumbling sea. Thence went the priests and 

built 
The shrine of God, and called it for the King. 
Most fair the place and brave the Mission wall, 
As sweet the chapel built within. O there 
God chose to dwell before those holy men 
With chant and incense came, and then much 

more ; 
And gave the church long rest about the altar 

there, 
And from it went the conquest of the land. 
Arcadian meadows girt the walls about 
And rolled away beneath idyllic shades 
Of century oaks and elms where night and day 
Cicadas trilled the notes of peace. There winds 
Moist from the waves grew whist and fed the life 
Of vine and herb and dressed from spring to spring 
The smiling turf with green. Abundance came 
With years ; harvest and vintage brought returns; 
And flocks, as I/aban's, multiplied— sheep, kine, 
And horses bred from Andalusian stalls, 
Known over seas for grace of limb and strength — 
And, filling first the Mission pounds, escaped 
And roamed the wilds, whence sprang the mav- 
erick herds 
That browsed our grassy plains in pastoral times^ 



28 the; pi, anting of the cross. 



Long did the patient padres toil to bring 
The heathen Sacalanes to light; and some, 
Believing what they heard, were entered neophytes 
To dwell within the walls ; and some were set 
To till the soil, and others yet to learn a craft, 
To hew, to join, to quarry stone and carve; 
Their maids and wives to spin and weave, 
Whence many goodly cloths came to the shrine, 
Fabrics of wool and linen strangely wrought. 
And tapestries that pleased the padres' hearts. 
And Serra made the people dwell apart 
In cities, Sacalanes and Eslens, taught 
Them gentle speeches for their homes, and with 
A father's love watched over their concerns. 
The Governor gave to each a plot of ground, 
A bullock or an ass with which to plow, 
And seed to sow their fields which soon rejoiced 
With corn, and gentler grew the heathen child. 



So was a fountain opened for the land 
Of hope and life. And once each year when fell 
The harvest, and its winsome moon was full, 
The maids, each in her turn , constrained to choose , 
The nuptial bells were rung and such were wed ; 
Nor moveless maids, nor slothful lovers, these; 
Nor lacked in tenderness their tales of love: 
The Cupid of the wild, winked at, plaj^ed 
Many a prank upon the unsuspecting friars, 
And left his beauty on the answering land. 



EI, CARME;i,0. 29 



And Serra's zeal burned ever only more, 

A lamp of gold that shed its light upon 

The heathen child; and Father Crespi was 

To him another self, the shadow of his soul, 

To whom he said: "We twain have walked as one 

These many years. It pleases God we be 

Not severed long by death. O, brother, we 

Shall soon depart and for our house above 

Exchange this holy shrine we love below. 

Pray God we leave our children fixed in Him, 

For, brother, evil times and sore distress 

Will try the work our hands have wrought; 

A horde of grievous wolves awaits the day 

When we, the shepherds, sleep our sleep, and these 

Our lambs shall see our faces here no more. 

And Father Crespi answered him and said: 

"Our days are His to measure: He hath made 

Mine own remaining but a little space. 

I shall be first to pass from out this wild 

And see the goodly hosts that have attained ; 

For while at vespers kneeling I beheld 

A token as of light, a glory shining 

Through the house, and heard a new name called 

Upon me, but no other sound I heard ; 

And peaceful were my thoughts and like a child's, 

And I was well content, and rising saw 

The moon shine full from off the sleeping sea; 

And far away as in a dream the tides 

Called through the sombre fragrant pines. 



30 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 

' Pass thou with us ! ' they said. And now my work 
Is done, except it may be for a day 
Or two that I shall wait." 

So oft they spoke, 
These two, perceiving how their ends approached. 
And each the other cheered with holy speech. 

At last worn out with toils and ails, just as 

The old year's sandals touched the frothing 

marge 
Of a tumultuous sea that beat against 
The Point of Pines, the Padre Crespi slept. 
Such sleep as all might wish to sleep, so calm, 
So like a weary child's. And so they bound 
His feet and laid the saint to rest there in 
The holy place he loved; and Serra said: 
"Now is the time to go; the silver cord 
Is loosed. Farewell and hail, sweet brother, 
Partner in the labors of our Lord !" 

And now a yearning, such as dying mothers feel 
To hold their babes, possessed the fainting Serra's 

heart 
To see the holy houses he had built 
And children born to him through Mother Church; 
For through the years a host — six thousand small 
And great — was gathered from the tribes and 

sealed, 
And Serra's hands had blessed them, everyone. 



EI. CARMELO. 31 



From Cosoy up the land, in winter 
While a frost was on the hills, and in his blood 
A fever burned, went Serra blessing all 
The neophytes confirmed, and saying sad 
Farewells of one who loved them most to those 
Who knew his voice in other years, and thus 
Contented, till he came to Arcaugel, 
The fairest house and choicest spot in all 
The Golden Land, wherein it seemed that he 
Must needs expire. The ulcers on his feet 
Ran sore; the fever drank his blood; but hands 
Of loving neophytes nursed back his life 
And snatched a little respite from the grave ; 
And thence he came again to Carmel by 
The moly banks and waited there his change. 

A night without a shred of cloud or mist — 

A vault of azure set with points of flame — 

O'erhung the earth and sea, and from his couch 

The dying padre gazed into its depths 

Through frosty panes of casement glass, and saw 

A vision of the Virgin's face, etched in 

A crystal nimbus, with the Holy Child's, 

And round them cherubs whiter than the stars of 

dawn ; 
And in the tranquil night, and far beyond 
The moaning sea that spread beneath, he saw 
The cross that in a vision long before 
He saw at Cosoy when his spirit felt 
A mighty yearning toward the heathen child ; 



32 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 

And while he looked it passed into eclipse 
Of flame that made a city like the King's, 
Whence came, forth from the gate that looked 

upon 
The sea, a shining host which beckoned thence 
With beaming hands and seeming speech. Up 

sprang 
The dying saint, and crying, "Hail and hail! " 
Spread forth his hands and passed beyond the 

night. 

So died the patient Serra, full of years. 
Priest, pioneer aad Father of the Golden I^and. 



Grey church beside the moaning sea 
And in the dusky cedar's shade, 

Thy tale is to the cedar tree 

As some faint breeze about the glade ; 

The cedar's to the sea is naught; 

And paiu with older truth is fraught. 
But love hath all your meanings made. 

Old bells within the moldy tower 
Call loud and long across the sea; 

Call through the mists that dunly lower ! 
Who heard your ancient monody, 

The grey old padre, hears no more ; 

But one who lingers by the shore, 
In transient stay, will heed your plea. 



^L, CARMBlvO. 33 



This much I know of human creed, 
This much of the divine in man : 

That he who suflfers most will need 
The least of rancor in his plan; 

Will take the largest view of good, 

And make of L/Ove's beatitude 
A speech all narrowness to ban. 

I stood with awe and thankfulness 
Before a pomp I could not dread, 

Within a shrine I could not bless; 
And yet adored with bowed head. 

The mystery wildly typed in these ; 

For love I saw survives disease, 
And serves for but a crust of bread. 

Call loud and long across the sea, 
Old bells within the moldy tower; 

Call through the pines and up the lea; 
Call through the mists that dunly lower; 

Ye shall not wake the past, nor him 

That sleeps beneath yon cloister dim, 
From whom the Golden I^and is dower. 

But ye have waked within my soul 
A host of holy things once dead, 

And knoUed of much the final knoll — 
Of much, the earthy, sepulch'red. 

Sweet gain for my sad pilgrimage 

And wisdom for my latest age, 
And binding for my weary head. 



84 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



IV. THE BUILDERS. 

AS after storm the sun, burst through a rift 
Of clouds, makes splendor widening on the 
fields 
And brightening on the wolds and hills, so spread 
The faith and widened through the land, dispelling 

shades 
Of savage night, the while with martyr joy 
The reverend-handed wrought and built until 
One comes to Cosoy, southward, and to Assis, 
Northward by the wonder-holding sea. 

O Memory, wake thy muse and tell, before 
From lips of life it pass, the tale of each 
Those goodly seats faith reared and faith adorned 
Beside unfailing stream, or sea, or in 
Savannahs lapped, with near enamoring shades ! 

From Carmel at the summer's height when fell 
The first full year, and ships were come with 

friars 
And needed stores, went Padre Serra forth, 
Attended, on the clear Salinas' course, 
And in a glen o'erwatched by bearded oaks 
Belfried and rung loud bells of gospel joy, 
Crying the while, "Come, children, come, and 

take 



THE BUir^DKRS. 35 



The easy yoke of Christ ! " Then for a time 
Was silence, save that through the leafy wood 
Went echo softly calling, "Come." But when 
The Host upon a thymy knoll was spread 
And sang the friars a loud Magnificat, 
Faint on the forest's mold was heard the tread 
Of feet; and lo, the shadowy forms of men, 
The Gentile people watching from afar ! 
And so the soil and groves were dedicate, 
And for Padua's Saint the altar named. 

Rare vine did that brave planting grow 
And rich of blood that holy martyrs gave : 
Three priests, the Abbe Pujol last, found each 
Beneath those never-fading oaks his crown 
And there a grave in peaceful solitude; 
But evermore prevailed the cross, with year 
By year its hundred births from Gentile death ; 
And year by year the Mission's store increased, 
The cheer of travelers passing through the wild. 

Next after Carmel fairest, fashioned forth 

A wonder of adoring zf^al, appeared 

San Gabriel in the South. Seen from afar 

Miraged in blue and vert, and flamed about 

By torches of the phlox and golden-rod. 

It seemed the vision of another house 

Let down from heaven. Nor lacked it proof of 

grace 
In after times, nor wanted litanies 



36 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS, 

Of love and toil. There faith went hand in hand 
With useful skill taught to the neophytes 
Who vied each with the other in their tasks, 
And made the lamps of altars and their cups, 
And fashioned also groins and fretted beams 
With man}' an ornament of holy use. 
Deft likewise grew the hands of novice maids 
To weave soft carded wools and linens bright 
With Tyre-excelling dyes; to plait the reeds 
And grasses, many-hued, that grew about 
The stream; to make them beaded reticules, 
And sandal shoon wherewith to clothe their feet. 
And these became the mothers of the lords 
Of after times, even these once-savage maids. 
So grew the miracle of faith far in 
The dreamy South; and still, O blest! the chimes 
Of old sound from the mauj'-belfried towers 
Calling to Angelus at summer eves. 

Los Osos, haunt of deer and whistling quail, 
An ancient fen sucked of its deadly ooze 
By sea and sun, grew wildly rank with life 
Of vine and tree, by nature dressed. 
The frail convolvuli, cerulean-cupped. 
Made beauty in the brakes and on the cliffs; 
The red heath apple rained its Shulem wealth 
Amongst the nutgrass spires ; the wild rye 
Shot its arrowy seeds upon the breeze. 
While birds of paradise flashed sheeny wings 
Amongst the shades. 



THE BUII^DERS. 37 



Hither the padres came 
And chanted litanies which, riding down 
The winds, hailed thither wondering savage men, 
Who offered gifts of milky nuts and signed 
Their joy to hear the echo- waking bells. 
Then were they glad, those holy men, and called 
The name of great San lyuis on the place, 
And left before the wide-beholding sea 
A torch to light the darkness of the land. 

The stigma of the Friar of Assis marked 
The day when to the house Dolores came 
His image, Palou chanting Mass before, 
Palou the same whom Serra left to fill 
His room when first he went to plant the cross 
On heathen soil; a toilful priest was he, 
A man of blameless speech and single eye, 
And like to him Cambon, and both true sons 
Of their seraphic Sire; to whom in time 
Came Pena and Maria, and they wrought, 
These four, as one, adorned the holy house, 
Planted a little space of hills and taught 
The brook to flow about the terraced slope, 
Feeding the fields and gardens by the wall. 
Albeit greater fields were sown beyond 
The hills, where better soil invited husbandry, 
And whence in later times the Mission drew 
Its staff of bread; and thence the waters burst, 
And Camb6n blessed the fountains, dual springs, 
That sent sweet wellings forth, thereafter famed 



38 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 

And much desired as giving health, new blood 
And thews of youth; the barren women drank 
And knew the joys of motherhood: so said 
The wrinkled crones that mouthed on market days. 
Then was the honor of the saint renewed, 
Where this his house stood like a palm tree by 
The rill ; and fragrant like a rose that blooms 
The desert in, it blessed the desert's child. 

From fire-scathed Alcala impatient feet 

To Sajarit passed, and holy hands took 

From their hiding place, fear-made a year before, 

The bells and chasubles devote, and reared 

San Juan, the monument of after woe. 

Fair rose its domes against the sky, but rose 

To fall. The air a sudden tremor took 

As of the voice of doom, and while a host 

Of waves tumultuous from the outer seas 

Fell moaning misereres on the shore, 

The earthquake spoke its wrath, and they were not. 

The children of its travail. In their death 

Sublimely sepulchered, they sleep where 

I^ike a shattered hope the temple's beauty lies. 

Beneath a sapphire skj'^, and in the vale 
By Guadeloupe's fluent tide, set round 
By sunny slopes, Assisi's Maid found seat 
And patron honors undisturbed. Begot 
Of peace, itself clave close to happy peace 
And brought its children forth in peacefulness. 



THB BUILDKRS. 3» 



Deep in the glens about, the wild rose blew, 
The petted child of nature's ease. By door 
And gateway and beside the shrine's own porch, 
Transplanted, grew the wildling grace, 
Until one saw the prophet's dream fulfilled 
And Zion blossom with a virgin bloom. 

The years. that passed were four ere went again 

The feet of builders shining through the South, 

Whence journeying on they came to Chufu's seat— 

Chufu, the chiefest of the Chumas' gods, 

And terror-clothed. There while a mist blown like 

A smoke from out the Channel Seas o'erspread 

The hills and highest peaks, their office said. 

To good Ventura, Saint, the padres reared 

An house, and blessed and sowed the mattocked 

fields. 
Nor lacked for answer to their lusty toils 
In that surprising land. Three harvests to 
The sickle yearly fell. The cocoa spread 
Its silken fronds and ripened in the air; 
The date, the plantain and the peach beside 
The almond drank the warmth of sun and soil; 
The walnut's branches rained their marrowy 

globes 
At autumn, while the wine from out the pipes 
Ran red as sunset on the ocean isles. 

The selfsame year was laid the line upon 
Saint Barbara's portion in the vale betwixt 



40 THE PI<ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



The mountains and the sea; such sea 

As, looking on, one thinks of that which breaks 

With fringe of pearl against the shores of Life ; 

Such mountains as within the thought of him 

Beholding seem the hills delectable 

On that fair coast which John in Patmos saw. 

This was the realm of Yanonalit, chief 

Of Chumas, mild and generous folk who brought 

Their stores of fruits and gave their help to build 

A chapel where the first rude altar rose ; 

And Yanonalit brought with him, when first 

He came to kiss the padre's hands, his young 

Twin daughters, mountain flowers that grew in 

grace 
Of native princesshood unspoused and free. 
These Serra baptized, blessed with sign and gave 
To each a name of martyr maid and sent 
Them far away in ship to dwell with nuns 
Until their time of womanhood. And so 
It fell that one became herself a nun 
And one was wedded to a knight in Spain. 

Thus was there pledge of peace, and thus was built 
Saint Barbara's earliest house. But ere 
The destined beauty grew from faith to form 
Was Serra's office ended, and he passed 
From toil to his reward amongst the blest. 
And therefore was there doubt upon the land, 
For none arose thereafter likened unto him. 



THE BUILDERS. 41 



But Padre Lasuen took his room and built 

The shrines Purisima and Santa Cruz, 

This by the Alsacupi, that beside 

The clear Ivorenzo near the pleasant sea; 

And doleful Soledad; and San Miguel, 

Reared to the Captain of the heavenly hosts; 

And Badtista, shaped from oaken beams 

And thatched with leaves, as fitted, in the wilds; 

And San Jose, called so for spouse of her 

That Mother was of our dear lyord the Christ; 

And San Fernando, girt with palms and shades 

Of reverend oaks; and Luis Rey, named for 

That holy king of long ago, in grace 

The noblest built in all the Golden Land; 

And these were blest, their times, with all the rest. 

Fair doors of mercy opened in the wilds. 



But all is changed. Avarice and time, and blight 
Of man's neglect! Alas! The houses mourn 
Their beauty past; but mourn in hopelessness. 
Each now is bride to silence, fruitless each, 
And all unfavored, save that here and there 
A suppliant comes to pray in secret 
And adore before the fall'n altar Him 
That changeth not with changing time. Waste are 
The fields about that once were green with corn 
And musky-mellow at the time of grapes; 
The meadows lie of browsing herds untrod; 
The cloisters vacant stand, bewebbed and fouled 
Of mildew, falling piecemeal in the damp 



42 THE PlyANTING OF THE CROSS. 

Of rain and mist, unguarded, save by dust 
Of holy dead inurned about. Yet here 
Was once a life fair-clothed with washen robes 
For rags of heathen shame exchanged; here lived 
The vows of chastity and faith, and here 
The heathen child grew up a saint, and oft 
A martyr died for Christ's most holy name. 
Methinks the Indian's voice is heard again 
Within those reverend places, plaintive, wild, 
And like a new-born babe's before the dawn — 
A cry that, hearing, those sweet fathers' hearts 
With mother pangs of love were touched, and 

deemed 
Assisi's Saint ofttimes, when incense filled 
The house or hung at Angelus above 
The Host, approached the chancel clad in vests 
Of myrrhy samite, but so dimly faint 
That all was spirit-like ; and stretching forth 
His hands, blessed all the kneeling neophytes; 
Then following after, spirit-like and low. 
Intoning voices filled the inmost shrine 
And, passing hence, were heard far off in heaven. 



El Carmel by the river 
Holders and falleth ever; 
No more its belfries quiver 
With the riot of old bells. 
The river weudeth slowly 



THE BUII^DERS. 43 



Through meads of cress and moly 
Under the ruins holy, 
Where ancient silence dwells. 



No reverent soul of mortal 
Passeth the gloomy portal 
Bearing a wish immortal 

Appealed to love or law; 
No vespers there are chanted, 
No penance asked or granted, 
But the chancel old is haunted 

By a legendary awe. 

The swallow there is mated. 
The eerie owl is sated, 
And the turtle drops belated 

Beneath the hoary eaves. 
No burning censer leaveth 
A sweetness that relieveth 
"What gloom the ivy weaveth 

In monody of leaves. 

The silent stars shine nightly, 
The summer sun glows brightly, 
The desert winds breathe lightly 

Through arch and colonnade; 
The aspen whispers kindly. 
The spider weaveth blindly, 
Madonna looks resign 'dly 

From the rudely carved facade. 



44 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 



Hard by the gleaming fallows, 
Under the dusky willows, 
Low on their earthy pillows, 

The holy men repose. 
The sea mist settles dunly, 
The spice tree weepeth lonely, 
But the gnarled oak tree only 

Their long hicjacet knows. 

There creeps the brown-leaved clover 
And throws its mantle over 
The dust-still hearts that never 

In prayer again shall burn ; 
Its sweet the camphor spilleth, 
The dryad locust trilleth 
Till autumn's raindrop fiUeth 

Their lowly marble urn. 

Stars of a faith time-hoary, 
Spurners of place and glory. 
Tellers of simple story 

With redolence of pain ; 
Peace, holy and unbroken, 
Good in the highest spoken. 
And honor without token, 

A recompense remain. 

El Carmel by the river 
Molders and falleth ever; 
And passing time doth sever 



THB BUII^DERS. 45 



The thoughts of men the more. 
So every labor falleth, 
Nor faith nor pride recalleth, 
But dusky night o'erpalleth 

Whose light has gone before. 

Tradition cometh sadly, 
And passion cometh madly, 
While wonder cometh gladly 

To look upon the waste ; 
Song cherisheth divinely. 
Doubt standeth by supinely, 
Truth passeth on benignly 

And ever maketh haste. 



46 THE PI.ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



V. THE HOUSE DOLORES. 

FULL many an admiral passed the Golden 
Gate, 
But never European saw within 
Till Portold, distraught and baffled, came 
At autumn, leading those sent forth to build 
A shrine and set presidial bounds before 
Vizcaino's ever-fleeting bay. For when 
At first they should have found for which they 

searched, 
A fog heaved heavenward from the ocean like 
A coral shore. Himalayan-topped, hid all, 
The fair expanse, and so denied their eyes 
And left them wandering on till, lured by capes 
And headlands ever beaten by wild surfs 
And void of sheltering coves, they came at last 
Into a range of darkly wooded hills. 
Deep-cloven by canyadas, cool with streams. 
That dripped from hidden sources in the glades 
Of fern and chapparal, and there encamped 
Within the shadows of the wold, despairing 
Of the King's behest and weary of 
Their vagrant lives that brought no fruit. All 

night 
Their flickering camp-fires threw a ghostly light 
Far down the vistaed gloom of red-wood boles. 
And memory's camp-fire, feeding on the past. 



THE HOUSE DOLORES. 47 



Burned bright and re-illumed the years of life ; 
While round the strawy canopy above 
The winds in melancholy music sobbed, 
And through the rifted shades with half-shut 

eyes 
They watched the stars in vastness overhead ; 
But speech was stronger than the wondering 

soul, 
And one broke forth and sang a strain of love, 
A love that was and perished long before ; 
But one sang low of home in other clime 
And days of happier thought and deed than 

now, 
And sang till voice and spirit both were calm ; 
Another caught the falling note and sang 
Of courage, and of faith's serene reward 
Laid up beyond the stars and sobbing wold; 
Then silence fell, and in it came the dawn, 
Grey-breaking through the passes of the hills. 

Far murmurs as of waves upon the beach, 
Low voices whispered on the fainting winds 
Came from the purple north ; and straight a 

knight 
Amongst the knights declared the sign, and 

cried : 
"This bids us journey till we find the King's 

desire ; 
Obedience is the seal of hope; what though 



48 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 

The voice that calls be whispered in the ear 
In no state speech, the truth as truth abides, 
Speaking to those who hear with reverent sense. 
A wind, the songs of turtles in the pines, 
The scent of autumn airs may prove to hearts 
That heed evangels of the higher will ; 
Therefore obey this present voice and live 
In stories that shall tell the deeds of this 
Our day of chance. Disloyal prove, and die. 
Or live the jest of fame, and have men say 
In aftertimes, 'These went on noble search, 
But failed through doubt and timorous mind,' 

and so 
Shall others come and take our crowns and near 
The King shall reap advantage of our sloth, 
And gain the smiles and prayers of happy 

saints. 
Not chance, but faith, the profit holds of this 
Our quest. Halfway will meet us heaven, but 

takes 
A pledge of foreworks; ere reward is fruit 
Within our reach desire must blossom out 
With zealous deed. This precedent, avouched 
By high degree, appeals with deed to deed: 

Don Martin Perez, courtly, grey and sage, 

A leisure-pensioned sailor of the King 

Who made more knights and sailors by his talks 

In one short year than half the schools in Spain, 

As midman in his youth sailed venture-wise 



THE HOUSE DOI.ORES. 49 



Joined with a master seeking coast or isle 
Unknown, but prospered little, meeting winds 
And shipping boisterous seas, till, purpose balked, 
The master turned, took surcease in his grog 
And anchored in a calm at height of stars. 
But his young midman, bent on enterprise, 
Beheld the east burst into foam and heard 
The horns of Tritons blowing down the gale. 
When presto! blared by callow midman lips 
Thrust out like any Puck's, the trumpet called 
To ropes ; the bark leaped to the surf's embrace 
As maiden to a lover's long desired, 
And ere the rum-drenched master woke to stare, 
A pearl-white tropic dawn fell on the sea, 
Showing long lines of dappled isles that burst, 
Like crocus roses from a summer pond, 
Outposts of palmy shores that through a frith. 
Broad like a bay, gave to the salty vast 
A river's tempering tides. Fair guerdon, that, 
Of faith that took the times of providence, 
And likewise augment to the Spanish crown 
Of glory and imperial lands. Up we ! 
Enchanted tracts before us lie. The Cross, 
Our country and our King appeal ! " 

Adjured by these 
Enkindling words, they entered into vow 
To journey till they found the King's desire, 
Or else attained the bounds of land and sea. 

From thence Ortega with a chosen few pressed 
on 



50 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 



And came to bold Sau Bruao's utmost verge, 
And there beheld what stirred his Ivatin blood, 
The blue Puerto rolled amongst the hills ; 
A long expanse of inland waves sheen with 
The light of morning skies, and virgin shores 
And terraced landscapes smiling in the sun. 
Star-crested night had sprinkled with cool dews 
The land that stirred not with a sign of life, 
But fair beyond the vision of a dream, 
And fair within as fair without the seas ; 
Two islands, emeralds in a turquoise belt 
About the thews of a grim mount that watched 
Above the mystic Gate, smote starlike through 
The blending miracle of sea and sky 
And gleamed enchantment on their wondering 
sight. 

What ghost seraphic, what mild saint of heaven 
Had hither led? thej'- asked ; and, answering, 

blessed 
Their sire of Assis, Francis, marked with wounds 
Of Him who bade his servants bind and loose. 
How soon they thought to loose these pleasing 

shores 
From thrall of heathen silence long endured ! 
Whereof was given a sign in prophecy. 
For while they watched, behold, a cloud that 

wrapt 
The mount about moved down and built along 
The multifarious windings of the shores 



the; house DOLORES. 51 



Dim shapes — the outlines of a city rolled 

In plenitude of mists against the slopes 

That upward climbed ; while down the strip of sea, 

Leaving no wake within the tranquil wave, 

Moved shadowy argosies, where, save of old 

The freighted image of the crescent moon 

Led down the winding frith and seaward on 

By pilot of the Evening Star, there came 

Not since the world began the keel of ship. 

And thus they saw the after years revealed 

And read in phantasy the pledge of all. 

And now Ortega, choosing two beside, 
Left there the rest a day and night, and traced 
The shores about and saw at eve, emblazed 
With splendors of the setting sun, the Gate 
Unnamed, the doorway of the wonder-holding sea. 
All night they heard the murmurs of the tides 
That crawled beneath a slowly lifting mist. 
And rose to greet the dawn's resplendent train. 
And saw, high o'er the lesser hills, the peaks 
Of snow gleam in the wide-extended blue, 
And thought how myriad feet must tread the soil 
They trod, and myriad watchers scan, as they, 
The sky and greet the after-coming dawns. 
But there they built no house, nor left a sign 
To tell their triumph save, and only save, 
A wooden cross upon the windy beach. 



52 THE PI.ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



But God is one and hasteth not; one heart 

Is that which throbs through time, and breaks 

and cries. 
Men were before what men we are ; our blood 
Was theirs and shall be others; God is God 
And makes his waiting purpose plain at last. 

And now the King again said, " Build," and came 

De Anza, knight and captain puissant, 

With priests and soldiers, and a substance great, 

In charge to found a new presidial realm ; 

Who made long search of all the shores about, 

Feeding prophetic vision on the things 

He saw of wave and shoreland, wood and stream; 

And taking note of fertile plots, he chose 

The sites for mission and presidial holds : 

The one beside Dolores slender brook, 

Shut in by misty hills, but looking round 

On sunny slopes and meads, as also on 

A bit of restful wave, the Weeper's Bight, 

So named because he heard the Ohlones there, 

Mothers belike, make mournful weeping for the 

dead; 
The other near the sea and on a noble hill, 
The better thus to guard the priceless Port 
And reap the promise of the hidden years. 
Nor stayed his search beside the mid- most sea ; 
But up San Pablo's winding shores and through 
The pass of San Rafael, to see at last 
Sonoma's mountains lift their lines against 



the; house doi,ore;s, 53 



The sky and frame a picture of delight 

In slopes and plains through which, like lighter 

strokes 
Of some old master's brush toned to the shades 
And splendors of his larger dream, the rills 
Greeu-marged, down-drifting, sought the quiet 

seas. 



This done, back to his post De Anza rode, 
Charging Rivera with the King's behest- 
Rivera, bravest proved of all who drew 
Their swords in conquest of the Golden Land, 
A soul well fit to match those knightly ones 
Whose armor caught the lights of Faery land 
And flashed them round the unperceiving world; 
Yet not through Faeryland was his to ride, 
But his to trace the desert path and make 
His heart a lamp to light the darkened land; 
Serving or ruling, always just, he fell 
At last, as well became the knight he was, 
Defending woman's honor and his own ; 
For so it chanced he held a post, himself 
And twelve beside, a petty fort, but now, 
As sheltering wives and helpless babes borne 

thence 
In times of fear, grown to the rank of some 
Grey rook, the treasure fortress of a king. 
At midnight, when the desert slept in gloom 
And torrid silence underneath a sky 
Whose stars fought in their courses, raining hail 



54 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



Of meteor-fire, a horde of Yumas, 

Yelling demon wrath and sending showers 

Of poisoned shafts before, set on the fort ; 

And these few held the gate and puny walls, 

Piling the savage slain in gory heaps. 

But Don Rivera, wounded, died at morn, 

As died the rest; and when there came a guard 

Which had delivered, making haste, they found 

Him lying with his foes, but grasping still 

With bronzed right hand his blade, red-dripping 

Heathen blood, and on his face defiance set. 

Such was the knightliness that kept the sword 

And vigiled while the zealous padres wrought 

To rear Saint Francis' altar in the north. 

But when, beforetimes, Don Moraga built 

The fort beside the arm of sea and loud 

The bloodhound cannon barked, from sheer 

affright 
The Ohlones and Romanyans, native tribes, 
Fled to the isles in tule crafts, nor came 
Again to claim their h )mes for two full moons, 
And then in anger, setting fiercely on 
The priests and soldiers, till the mild Palou 
Held up the picture of the Blessed Maid 
Folding in gentle arms the Holy Babe, 
At which some left their weapons by the bight 
And kissed the padre's hands, becoming neophytes* 
But others stood and kept a wrathful mood 
Until Grijalva chastened them with thorns, 



THE house; DOI^ORES. 55 



Compelling peace of all, save oue, a priest 
Of demon rites, a sorcerer deep-taught 
In grisly spells ; of mighty frame and limb, 
Majestic-shouldered, eagle-faced and topped 
With a gigantic poll, whose unkempt mass 
Flowed with the winds as seaweeds with the tides. 
A fierce-orbed eye was his and voice that spoke 
Authority; with one he awed, and with 
The other ruled the land, girt as he went 
With charms and amulets of whispering shells. 
Because, when first they saw him gaunt from fasts. 
Coyote by the Spaniards aptly called, 
But Copah, meaning fire, amongst his tribes; 
Unconquered when his people bowed, he fled 
To Tamalpais and dwelt amongst its crags 
And pines, where, as the Miwok prophets tell, 
There sleeps a god recumbent on the ledge 
Five leagues extending toward the Golden Gate, 
As one may see at sunset when a flame 
Burns round his head and rolls returning 
Toward his feet : his hair, which seaward streams 

a league 
In length, the plowing avalanches comb 
And deck with towering redwoods, bole and 

branch, 
Torn from the forest glooms, as sachem's deck 
Their own with plumes of eagle and of kite. 

From aery spaces crystal clear, above 
The peaks of Shasta, came in the far morn 



56 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 

Of virgin light a mighty race, half earthy, 

Half the children of the gods, to be 

The sires and guides of mortal man. From these 

The hunter's skill, the warrior's courage 

And the spells of sorcery, healing and of 

Making rain — with whom this god descended from 

The ice-embattled mount to find his rest 

On this; and till he wakes the Indian child 

Must suffer fate. Escept a power beyond 

The gods deny to him the waters of 

The sacred rill, vast woe awaits unto 

The end who holds the Indian's wrested lands. 

For in that early time halfway the mountain's 

slope 
There welled a thermal fountain to the light, 
And there a deadly serpent, laving lengths 
Of sapphire folds, kept guard ; while from his jaws 
A slimy venom oozed, and mingled with 
The clear cup of the rill, that none might drink 
Thereof and live. High on an eerie pine 
A raven croaked, waiting a thousand years 
The waking of the god, who drank, ascending 
Toward his rest, and will, descending, drink again, 
And so renew his strength to work his will. 
And sate his f oredetermined wrath ; but if 
A mortal drink thereof, its virtue fails 
The god, and all his strength remains as man's. 
So watched the rook above with demon eyes. 
And hissed the serpent poisoning all the brook. 



THE HOUSE DOIvORES. 57 

In Storm and shine climbed wizard Copah up 

The windy ledges to the Sleeper's brow 

From which the hair flows seaward down a league 

And cursed the stranger by the god he praised; 

Cursed with a woe the white-faced padres ; cursed 

The bloodhound cannon barking in the fort; 

The cross with wizard incantations cursed, 

Until the darkness blotted land and sea ; 

And then at noon of night amongst his crags 

He lifted up a voice that drowned the notes 

Of winds reverberant in the swaying pines, 

An echo rolling through the voids of night, 

Till they who chanced in rocky bights or creeks 

About the mount to ply a midnight oar 

Heard sounds articulate and manifold, 

As though a thousand tongues in clamors spoke. 

Intent to know if sign appeared, each day 
The stealthy sachem, shadow-like, crept from 
His misty lodge ; but saw at last an end 
Of all the ill he wished — uncoiled and dead 
The typhon lay, and 'twixt his gaping jaws 
A ragged stone hurled by a mortal hand, 
And dead beside him there the eerie rook. 



With grievous cry that shivered through the 

gloom 
The savage fled, and, upward climbing, stood 
Against the carven Shape. The Ohlones saw 



58 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 

(As now their grey-haired tribesmen, chanting 

tell), 
And while they watched a white mist wrought 

about 
His form the semblance of a cavern vast 
And high. A ghostly paleness spread within ; 
And through it, bearing torches, came a file 
Of wizard men, topped all with mighty polls 
Of flying hair ; before them crawled a dragon 
Frothing fire, which, flowing down in lurid rills 
And mingling with the wizards' torches, made 
Unearthly light about the head of Copah, 
Gazing from afar. Then came, a little 
Space before, a sachem taller than the rest 
Who beckoned unto Copah, and he passed 
Into the cave and so was lost to sight ; 
But thus it hapt with him : they made a pyre, 
Those wizard men, and stripped from Copah 's 

wrists 
His amulets of whispering shells, and from 
His neck the charms of dragon's teeth, and heaped 
Them on the pyre ; then bound and laid thereon 
The wizard's self, chanting a death-song, till 
Red flames en wreathed his form, and in a robe 
Of smoke his spirit passed upon the winds, 
To dwell in aery spaces, crystal clear, 
Above the peaks of Shasta, whence of old 
The archons of the Miwoks came to be 
The sires and guides of mortal men. Seeing 
Their priest and bond of race departed thus, 



THE HOUSE DOI.ORES. 59 

The remnant flung their craft of war and all 
Their charms and heathen spells into the sea, 
And, bowing, meekly kissed the padre's hands. 

So was the conquest of the land complete^ 

And rose Dolores at the utmost shore, 

A house and fold for heathen little ones 

Made lambs of Christ ; lowly but strong, and sweet 

With sheltering eaves and prayers, and shepherd 

hands 
To keep and lead. So blessing, it was bless'd. 



60 THE Pr<ANTlNG OF THE CROSS. 



VI. DORa INEZ. 

SOME respite left it from the last decay , 
Dolores' house was blest beyond the rest 
Its compeers. Round about it Yerba rose 
Girt by the dimpling seas, and there began 
The dreams of Spain to merge into the day ; 
And there the doughty commandants, the arm 
And voice of Spain, held firm and easy sway. 
A frequent season filled with mirth and sport 
Of gallant sorts the long bright days beguiled 
And starry nights. There Cupid kept his court 
As bravely as in palaces and bowed 
In honor to the dusky maids as at 
The feet of royal dames ; and days ot troth 
And bridal feasts were matched with rustic pomp 
And minstrelsy. So went the merry round 
Of pastoral years unbroken by a dread. 

But now there grew a menace in the north ; 
Down-groping through an ice-strewn autumn sea, 
Into Bodega sailed a Muscove fleet, 
There anchored and disbarked an Aleut horde 
To hold the Northern shores, contesting thus 
The ancient claim of Spain ; which thing perceived 
The commandant who watched with jealous eye 
The seas about and far-extending shores ; 
And war was nursing in the Spanish heart, 



D05?A INEZ. 61 

I^ike swarms of gadflies in a secret place ; 
And war had been, except that Cupid's dart 
Proved swifter than the sword of Mars, and so 
Slew one that all might live ; yet that slain lived 
Again, returned from passion's living death. 

Don Luis then was commandant, with seat 

At Yerba fairer grown beside the sea 

Locked in the shelter of the fruitful land, 

And fairer made by Don Luis, a glass 

Of courtesy, and brave and wise withal 

And noble in his mind, and blessed with one 

Fair daughter, Doiia Inez, loved of all, 

And lovely she in utmost gentlehood 

And in the meekness of her maiden mind ; 

Spain's proud, voluptuous grace united there 

With life from old restraints and pomps of time 

Divorced to make who made an empire's peace. 

As Helen made another's woe. Than she 

None more devout, yet none more blithe nor free; 

Castilian roses bloomed on either olive cheek, 

Which none but bravest lips might pluck, and yet 

Unpluckt, when, on a furious sea that beat 

Against the ragged Heads, a Muscove ship 

Hove through the Gate, and anchored near the 

fort; 
Her master, RezanofF, a gallant Count, 
And fired with bold designs. Openly to trade 
He came, but secretly to spy the fort, 
Explore the full-waved rivers flowing down 
And measure the defenses of the land. 



62 THK PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 

As fit his rank and as was meet to treat 
A guest, Don I/uis gave an audience to 
The Count, and in his honor spread a feast ; 
And so, constrained, he tarried manj^ days, 
Returning courtesy for courtesy, 
But ever taking note and casting chance 
In thought against the potency of Spain, 
Until an eve, at feast within the hall 
Presidial, at her father's side, he saw, 
And for the first time saw, the Lady Inez, 
And, seeing, in his heart confessed himself 
Her slave, and henceforth dreamed of only her. 

Meantime there came great ones, and wise, sent 

forth 
From distant courts and schools in learning's 

name. 
Of these Chemisso chief, and Kotzebue, 
Whom Arguello received with honors, made 
Them holidays with baits of bulls and feats 
Of horsemanship; showed them the land, and 

sent 
Them on their quest with generous words, as did 
The Governor, speaking for the Court of Spain. 
But Rezanofi", toiled by the maiden grace 
Of Dona Inez, tarried still, forgot 
His bold designs and sued with lover's zest 
Where he had meant to lay the trains of war. 
But Dona Inez yielded not at first, 
eeing he was of different blood and faith ; 



D05Ja INEZ. 63 



And doubting her own heart, if it were love 
Or something less, she gave the stranger for 
His own. But once, when on the bait they 

looked, 
And while the vaquero rode round the pit. 
And " Toro ! Toro ! " from a hundred throats 
Burst on the air, the maddened brute dashed at 
His mounted foe, doing to death the horse ; 
And soon had gored the man, but Rezanoff 
Leaped to the pit, caught up the shivered lance 
And drove it to the creature's heart, yet not 
Without sore cost, for through his gloveless palm 
The staff was forced, making a ragged wound 
From which the blood gushed forth and reddened 

all 
The white lawn of his vest. And Dona Inez, 
Binding up the wound with her white kerchief, 

there 
Confessed in her own heart a deeper wound. 

** A noble courage, Senor Count ; a task 
That daring sets before the brave," she said. 
While fitful flushes mantled either cheek. 

And he: **No task is that, sweet lady, nay, 
Nor peril, where on courage waiteth praise 
Of gracious lips tutored of gracious heart, 
And ministry like this of thine." 



64 the; pi^anting of the cross. 



Then she : 
"You speak no word unworthy, knight of Spain, 
Or any puissance that ever yet 
Hath been amongst the gentle of the earth. 
I wonder since I thought no other race 
So noble as mine own in courtesy." 

She ceased, and he, returning: "Here indeed 
Upon these maiden shores, and in the glow 
Of graciousness whereof your maiden self 
Is sun, I have learned much of courtesy, 
And shall forever debtor be to him, 
Your father, holding rule of knightly arms, 
And thee, the fair enshrinement of the land." 
Which said, he bowed right gallantly, and with 
His aides returned to ship. 

A day of sun 
Lay on the land and sea, and all the arc 
Of heaven was fleckless azure, when from out 
The shadow of his three-decked floating tow'r 
The wounded sailor's pinnace shot across 
The rippling interval, and set him on 
The shore fast by the low presidial gate ; 
For now more sorely wounded in his heart 
For love of Dona Inez, and because 
Of all her tender care, he made his plea 
Once more, whereto she 3delded, and it pleased 
Her father's mind, who knew the stranger brave 
And held him just ; and just he was indeed, 



DOf^A INEZ. 66 

But such was made by love for her whose eyes 
Drank up the rivers of his warlike wish 
And paled ambition's lawless star within, 
So that he saw but her, the land's delight, 
And held in her the conquest of the land. 

Yet was this love not sealed with bridal vows, 
Nor should be till he voyaged and came again, 
Fulfilling service by a space of years ; 
And so with pledge of faith he sailed away, 
And with him passed the menace of the land. 
From her lone window at the eve of day 
Watched Dona Inez till the topmast dipp'd away, 
And high above her lover's ship the glow 
Made signs for her who kept a maiden's watch, 
True-hearted, dreaming in a maiden's bower — 
Dreaming the dreams a woman dreams but once, 
The all-infolding visions of a world 
Sweet with the airs of brooding love whose day 
From morn to eve is lit with faery light. 
And blest with voices crying, "Hail!" 

In sleep she dreamed again, more blessed dreams 

than those 
In waking light. The slow dividing years 
Were passed, and now his ship's tall mast 
Rose o'er the puny craft about the bay; 
The salvos broke in thunders and the hills 
Spoke back their honors to a Count and liege 
Of an imperial lord. All like a queen 
She stood before the altar in her robes 



66 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 



Of nuptial, and as at a royal troth 

All things were done and said. Then far away 

Beyond the seas, to cities and the courts 

Of kings, he whose she was had borne her in his 

love. 
Moreover, there his castle was that waited, 
Rich with pomp and plenty and the love 
That made it so ; and there within the door 
Were voices crying, "Blest of women, hail! " 

Meanwhile, about the Northern fields of ice 
With its young master dreaming likewise in 
The light of summer lands, the good ship beat 
A year, fulfilled its time and westward plowed 
To shelter in a far Siberian port ; 
Whence, journeying on, the sailor, sickened sore 
With fever, came to Yakooskt, and there died 
Whispering an alien speech and strange to those 
Who stood about ; but she who loved him well. 
And watched in her far home across the sea 
The coming of his ship for seven full years, 
Knew not, but ever said at autumn when 
Returned the selfsame day that brought him first : 
*' He comes to-day;" and if a mighty wind 
At night howled round the ** Heads " and shook the 
Low presidial house, she looked at morn 
To see his white sail in the bay, but looked in vain. 

Then, long before she knew the worst, 

Her heart consented and she watched no more ; 

But like a life that early blooms with death 

LofC. 



DONA. INEZ. 67 



And fruits with silence of the grave, her hope 

Declined, grew spectral, and at last fell in the dust ; 

And weeping ever in her silent bower, 

She said : "This year my spirit journeys far away. 

And they will wrap me in the white of death 

Long ere the golden poppies blow, or o'er 

San Pablo's winding waves, rich, laden with 

The breath of summer, come the gales again. 

So I shall pass beyond the darkening West, 

And far beyond the light-consuming sea, 

The great sea of the West, — mysterious, vague, — 

Shall pass and find my heart in Paradise 

And keep it till he comes from prison glooms 

Or distant wars to claim it, who is leal 

And noble, passing all the men of earth." 

But when her spirit's burden heavier grew, 
She sought the House of Grief, and there before 
Our Lady's shrine poured out her soul in prayer. 
" O, Mary, Mother, Virgin ! " thus she prayed, 
"** A virgin's grief is hers who brings 
A virgin's heart as token to thy shrine. 
O sorrowful no more ! bind up the heart 
Of sorrow in a virgin's breast, and watch 
For her who cannot watch until he comes 
Whose is my virgin's faith to meet and bless 
Me in that paradise beyond the sea." 

So prayed she, gaining strength for daily need ; 
Or sometimes when a gloom was fallen in 



68 THK PI.ANTING OF THE CROSS. 



The holy house, or when a fresher fountain 

Opened in her heart, she felt a nameless doubt. 

Sometimes a nameless fear, strike like a knell 

Or sudden cry of flame swift through her thought. 

And then she wept unheard, communing with 

Each spectre fear or torturing doubt. " False, he ? 

Nay, false he cannot be ; such faith as his must 

Needs o'erturn the world of truth in falling. 

He is true! yea, rather let me think him 

False in all things else, yet true in this, his faith 

To me, who, faithful waiting, die for him 

A thousand deaths, and would a thousand times 

Be born and die to show my faithful love ! 

O, Mary, Mother, Virgin, show me how 

A virgin's heart may break again — 

A thousand times— and yet may keep that life 

Of her that virgin is and true of faith ! " 

And so she kept her dolor time, and left 

The holy place for vigils in her home. 

Slow passed the days, and passed at last her 

doubts. 
Her fears; her tears at last were dried, and like 
A saint in halo of an ecstasy 
That painters love to paint, she went and came 
And made a peace and sweetness where she came. 
At length — the length of many a day and month, 
The measure of a sorrow-nuptial — came 
The sorrow-sealing word ; but since no more 
Her grief could know, as once, a sudden wound,. 



DOfJA INEZ. 69 

She heard unmoved the tidings which it brought 
From o'er the great sea of the West, telling 
Her lover dead : passing from lip to lip 
And borne through every zone before she heard, 
And then from a grey sailor who had held 
The tale a useless thing, repeating now 
Because a memory linked it with the place, 
Not deeming she for whom it went still watched, 
Though not as once beside the Golden Sea. 

And now there fell a plague at Yerba ; all 
The year the fever wasted sore, and half 
The people perished, and the priests despaired ; 
But Don Ivuis in desperate answer found 
The leafy pass of San Rafael, and built 
A refuge there amid the whispering trees 
That darkle o'er irriguous meads and shade 
The summer rills whose fountains gender from 
Upsloping hills ; and there the cheerful airs 
Revived the sick ; and thus the plague was stayed. 

And Dona Inez went in weeds and helped 
The sick, and there remained within the shrine 
And taught the orphaned ones left of the plague, 
And also there, amongst the ancient books 
Brought from the crypts of Alcala, she found 
A story told by one, a priest, of his own soul. 
And one whose pain was mirror of her own : 
^' Let God be true," the reverend history ran; 
*' And Christ forgive an erring son if earth 



70 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 



Too much h is thoughts engage, for sometimes when 

The voices of my brother monks no more 

Are heard in chants and prayers, and virgin stars 

In long processions, choiring, throng the aisles 

Of yon wide temple of the night, and springs 

A breeze across the land sweet with the breath 

Of spice and tamarind, which, pausing like 

A lover at my window, whispers low 

And flings about my neck its viewless arms, 

I feel, heart-deep, the passion of a dream 

In far Iberian summers dreamed; I live 

Again the bliss of days too fond to last, 

The heaven of love I trust to find beyond 

These shades of night and autumn's moaning seas, 

"God made us twain that, perfect grown, we might 

In unity attain the substance of 

His Holy Church wherein the Lamb and Bride 

Complete the glory of the heavenly dream. 

But not in sense alone is wrought the sign ; 

A fire ethereal is the spring of love, 

And likest God are they who prove its flame. 

' 'In those my days of warmth and light I watched, 

The ranks of heaven's eternal cavalcade 

In silent pomp ride down the vaulted night ; 

But mostly one I held, pale planet Love, 

Now Hesper named, that sank through tearful skies 

And died the million-times-repeated death 

Of amorous grief. Deep mystery of life ! 



■DO^A INEZ. 71 

Her life, that gave itself to death which moved 

Invisibly along the faultless lines 

Of that fair house wherein her spirit dwelt ! 

Tale of the almug tree, that, dying, breathes 

A faint and fragrant mist, a redolence, 

That circles like a censer's smoke about 

The forest of its birth ! So Cosmie passed 

Into Nirvana of ethereal sense, 

And evermore in visions I beheld 

Her grown to kinship with the stars of dawn 

All through such mystic change as Pleion's maids 

And oflfspring came to their immortal state. 

Fair are the paths beyond that tryst of stars 

Where love abides the day. God's last is best." 

Thus Doiia Inez read and gathered strength. 

And nearer came to what her life must be ; 

And so, at last, the veil she took, and in 

Saint Barbara's holy house consumed her days 

In kindly ministries until full half 

The century dragged away. Meanwhile she saw 

Come, one by one, the changes of the years : 

First, war with Spain, when by the shore great 

ships 
With bellying sails bore down and scourged the 

land 
That, doubting, waited till a fate, such fate 
As might, should fall its share from fitful war ; 
Then down the slopes of sunrise hills, and through 
The sunset gateway of the seas, shouting 



n THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 



An Argonautic cry, the Saxons came 
Seeking a fabled wealth before, strawing 
A fabulous behind. So Dona Inez 
Saw a new race, swift and reckless, pluck 
Her own from oflf the seat of power, and lift 
A new flag up to wave above the soil ; 
And ere she went in reverend age to death 
A new faith took the honors of the old, 
And southward, northward, widened through the 
land. 



THK END. 



